On The Road With Denny D

  A Bit Wordy: Before I came out, I had questions. Questions like. Can you be be bisexual and bipolar?   Not sure who you want and if you're happy or sad about it. I'm not bipolar . OCD, Maybe. I still have questions .  Questions like. Why are straight people not part of the LGBTQ community? What about the NDSLGBTQ (Non discriminating straight, lesbian, bi, gay, trans or questioning) community? The question is obvious. Who invited the straight guy? I'm curious. When did questioning overtake curiosity? Who the f*ck am I? Wait, that's a question.  How did Q make it to the club? Did they have a pronoun meeting? All in favour of letting the guy with the questions hang out at the end? Any questions? Precisely. Hey Q, you're in or you're out, anyway, welcome to the club.  ****** Just a random thought .   Baseball.  Not just baseball but Q baseball.   Its a beautiful day at the ball park. The sun is shining. The fans are drinking mimosas, eating skittles

  When I got to go and I want to go alone. Lets just say, it doesn't always work out the way I want.   I have a shy Johnny. I call it Johnny because it's no Johnson. Whenever I go take leak I have to time it. Before entering the restroom, I have to look over my shoulder. Like I'm being followed by the urinal police. I have to give Johnny a little pep talk. Okay an average pep talk. Okay, maybe I'm stretching a bit.  I'm like the pitching coach on the mound and Johnny is the relief pitcher. O kay the count is two balls and no strikes. You got this! You got a one minute window. Now get busy! No one is coming in. No one is looking at you junior. Besides you're walled up at the thighs with porcelain.   Then it happens, someone walks in and he stands right next to me. It's not like he didn't have any other options. He did. There was at least four other available urinals. Right next to me and the shy guy. Now the shy guy becomes the dry guy. It's not like

 I don't like talking about my crazy shit stuff. I've spent the better half of sixty years hiding, fearing and shaming. Gee, that sounds like a new Journey song. Na na na na na na na. Anyway and yes I know, you should never start a sentence with anyway but I'm doing it, anyway. Hey! this is all about comedy, errors are expected. Sue me! Anyway ( there, I did it ) I went to see a therapist for a couple reasons. One, to debunk my then wife's' diagnosis. To prove that I wasn't a passive aggressive ass-hole.   Moron? Maybe.  But I'm not an oxymoron, moron. I mean, can you be passive and aggressive at the same time? The second reason was obvious, to rearrange the therapists office, starting with her unused coasters. They were definitely placed haphazardly. Then it happened. She started asking questions. Imagine that, a social worker asking questions. I thought I was there as interior designer not a client. Question one. Why did your wife call you passive aggr

 I was born with one foot out. I think it was my left. Well, I wasn't quite born yet. I couldn't see where I was going or when I was going to get there but I did see a little light shining up through well, I'd rather not say. So there I was hanging out of the, rather not say, when my Mother's water broke. She didn't even know it. How did she not know, you might ask? Well, I'll just assume you did. She was in the shower. It wasn't her first rodeo. I was just another small clown trying to get to the circus. She prepared like all the previous births. At the first sign of contractions, she thought might as well get cleaned up . I don't know why, things are going to get messed up, in the hospital. You could say I was born a son of a breach. But that would mean my mom was too. Never mind. I came out alright and being a breach never gave me a big head. Okay, maybe a little bit.

I like nature. I really do. Nature doesn’t like me. Okay just the bugs. I think God knows about this and whenever he or she and his angels need a laugh they just dial up f bombs and tantrums. Apparently, my channel in heaven.   Fishing in near north Ontario.   I don't know why they call it the near north. It’s like north had a meeting and decided you can’t call yourself north,  w e will give you near north, because you are just up to it. Near is all we have left. Take it or leave it. Somewhere on a lake in the Canadian shields in the near north, is a man on a boat wondering about such things. Is there a near south? What happened to near center. F it, near north. We the north. We from Toronto. We the center. WE don't know! The Near North Buzz. The near north have black flies. Hey, I didn’t name them . They should have been called them ass flies, because they are a pain the ass and have no problem taking a chunk out of your ass. Oh, and their dear cousin, the deer fly, not

  I am getting older. I don't want to admit it, but I am. If you are older, you need to plan rest stops. Especially, if you drive for a very long period of time. Don't worry though, your old body will tell you when it is time and listening to your old body is a good thing. Not listening, well let just say, a bad thing. However, you can listen to your body but urge to purge could be stuck between the bladder and your little friend. Okay your big friend. Your average friend? Your friend in low places. Sometimes the flow don't want to go. You want to sing oh what a beautiful morning but the song is different when the flow don't wanna go. Maybe sometime this morning would be better choice. A very long old American standard sung by a very old urinal crooner. Really, sometimes it's like pushing an avocado pit through a straw. Luckily, I still have a good flow. You didn't need to hear or care about that but wait, something good is going to come out of this or that, h